Wednesday, November 30, 2005

"So like Lenore, but no"

Porphyria's Lover

by: Robert Browning (1812-1889)

The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me--she
Too weak, for all her heart's endeavor,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me forever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshiped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time by shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria's love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

because arelyn said she took the quiz as me

and got an unexpected answer, I took it myself for her, and was not surprised at all

Severus Snape
You clearly do not scare easily. You want a man
who is sharp, intellectual, cultured, and not
too mushy. Get underneath his cool, sarcastic
exterior and who knows what treasures you might

Who is your Harry Potter love match? (for girls)
brought to you by Quizilla

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Things I've learned while traveling pt 7

If you are worried about getting to the airport on time, and in a flashy BMW, you will end up in a car accident and be forced to learn how resourceful and together you really are.

If you take the aisle, you have to get up every 2 hours to let someone out, if you take the window and give up the aisle, you have to hold it for 6 hours.

Welsh boys can't make it snow, no matter how much they long for it.

The term "into your pints" actually is a very accurate description.

Yes, in fact, my bladder IS smaller than a wee bird with a bad attitude.

If you find yourself on an unexpected flight to Ireland for £5 each way, and end up in Cork, the pub to be at is the Evergreen.

Lots of really really really hot boys get on the tube at Baker Street.

When you are wearing, a tank top, a sweater, a huge wool coat, tights, socks, boots, a scarf, gloves, and wondering if you could be any colder, he'll be wearing a blazer and turtlneck and think you're "amusing".

Take the Jack the Ripper walking tour and make sure and ask to see the Roman wall.

Birthday boys are far more affectionate in public when they aren't expecting to see you.

New Zealand vs. England IS a big deal.

Paul Frank London has the exact same stuff, but charges more for it.

As much as Jeff will hate to know, it really is a bittersweet symphony.

"You want to sleep with common people like me."

Boys have odd taste in lingerie.

Apparently the Jack the Ripper tour that starts at Tower Hill is meant to be accompanyed by Rum. Because at some point in the tour, if you get the right tour guide, he sings a song about 1 cent for drunk, and 2 cents for rum. At which point, apparently, you are meant to partake of the rum, that you have already been partaking of.

When on a bus, in the late, late hours, because he HAS to take you home and show you something, you don't laugh at him when he sings to you.
You wait till the next morning then laugh your ass off.

Just when you think you know your way around, they go and close the Circle and District lines, due to, "a body on the tracks".

Days of doing nothing are often the best days of all.

A shop steward asking if you are alright, and a boy at a pub telling you that you are a, "bit of alright" do not mean the same thing.

When just after the Jack the Ripper tour, and your boyfriend engages in some male bonding that somehow evolves from hugging, to wrestling, to rolling down a muddy hill, by said Roman wall, resulting in both parties not only covered in mud, but breaking into "Under Pressure", according to the wife of involvement #2, "At least your's is singing the Bowie part", afterwhich I was treated to Michael, a very intimidating man, in a leather biker jacket with paint and chains, with a tall mohawk going, as if on que, "why why whyyyy whyyyyy whyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"
and then Colin STOOD up and very loudly sang the next line, which I guess was right, because I don't know what the real words are anyway.
But when they broke into, "This is our last dance, this is ourselves", Celine and I joined in.

Will I make it to the airport on time?
Do I care?
Can you really call into work 'British'?

in for a quick break, now back out-

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

"I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all."

Shared with me on this very early morning by Wonderful Electric


The Non-Expert

Is He Cute or Is He British?

by Sarah Hepola

Experts answer what they know. The Non-Expert answers anything. This week the Non-Expert helps a forlorn reader determine if her new guy actually looks as good as he talks.
Have a question? Need some advice? Ignored by everyone else? Send your questions.
The Non-Expert handles all subjects and is updated on Fridays, and is written by a member of The Morning News staff.

* * *Question:
I recently started dating a British guy. I think he’s cute, but maybe it’s just that he has an English accent. How can I tell the difference?—Carrie F.


Like many romantic dilemmas—
“Your place or mine?,” “Is it warm in here, or am I just drunk?”—this is a question that has long plagued American women. The British accent is Kryptonite to the female resolve, and though the evening may start with him innocently “chatting you up,” it ends with your knickers draped on a lamp in his sketchy midtown apartment.
Would this happen if he didn’t have that damn British accent?
Yes, because you’re a slut.
But it wouldn’t have happened twice. And not while his mum was visiting.

When it comes to the attractiveness of British men, American women are simply incapable of rendering a proper judgment. Bad teeth, the unibrow, Guinness bloat, doesn’t matter; hell, we think Tony Blair is hot.
Studies have proven that British accents are, in fact, the number one cause of hot women dating nerdy men. (Number two cause? Woody Allen.)
There’s nothing wrong with dating men who have British accents; Madonna liked her husband’s so much she got one of her own. But there are scoundrels out there—those who use their cute British accents to lure innocent birds to their flat for a friendly game of hide the blood sausage.

The following prompts will help as you try to decipher whether your new bloke is a winner or a wanker.
Beware the British accent, ladies, and remember: The country that gave us Shakespeare also gave us Simply Red.

What kind of accent does he have?
Even more than in America, British regional accents are the key to deciphering class and social stature. Does he speak with a crisp London clip? A slurry cockney? Does it matter?
No, because they all sound freaking adorable. What do you care?

What’s his education like?
Decades of BBC and English Lit classes have genetically programmed the American female to believe the British are culturally superior beings, skipping around Oxford making puns with their Byron under one arm and a pot of marmalade under the other.
This isn’t always true, of course—at least according to The Full Monty. Apparently England is also full of working-class people who watch telly and prevail against overwhelming odds.
But talking about books and stuff makes you look smart.
The other day I told a British guy I read Irvine Welsh, and he was so impressed he called me “brilliant.”

Does he have a nanny?
This could be trouble. On the other hand, if he is currently dating a supermodel or a foxy but curiously cold English actress, he is so yours.

How does he dress?
The archetypal British chap wears tweed jackets, a fine cashmere sweater vest, and a dashing Burberry coat. (Well, that’s what they wore in Closer. Hell if I’ve ever been to London.) But most British blokes I know are less formal, prone to wearing World Cup-sponsored clothing and jeans. This is fine. It’s to be expected. With one caveat: If there is any chance of a gold chain and a yellow tracksuit in his closet, I say run.

Beware cultural nuance.
Though we speak the same language, Americans and Brits have famously different words to describe the same thing. Everyone knows what we call “fries,” they call “chips.” But there are subtle phrases which, if you’re not careful, can cause grievous misunderstanding.
For instance:
When he says, “Can I bum a fag?”
he’s not trying to expand your relationship—he is simply asking for a cigarette.
When he says, “I could murder a taxi right now” he means only that he wants a taxi very badly. When he says, “I’m off to the pub with me mates for some tipple,” it means he’s going to pee the bed.
Watch out.

Does he ever drag you to a soccer match at 9 a.m., and get you drunk on Irish whiskey, and then tell you he’d fancy you if you just beat up those two bloody Welshmen in the corner?
Crap. I am such a sucker.
OK, pretend he did do that. So, in that case, do you think when you asked him about it later, bringing up fairly legitimate concerns about health and legal matters, he would respond to you with phrases like “what a bunch of bollocks,” “stop yer whingeing,” and “for fuck’s sake?”
Because that would be rude.

And then what are the chances that, in the middle of what you would consider an innocent fight, he might shock everyone in the subway by suddenly calling you “a bloody cunt?”
Because when it happens, it’s not pretty.

But wait a minute:
Does he say those things in British accent?
Cause that’s cute.
And does he spell “labor” like “labour?” And “theater” like “theatre?”
I know! CUTE!
And does he measure things in metres and talk about weight in stone?
And reference the Queen?
And when he speaks in that British accent do you forget all about how he called you a cunt and pissed in your bed and wears the tracksuit and made you beat up that poor Welshman?
I say go for it.
Cheers, mate.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

"A stitch in time is rarely possible!"

PotterGasm is almost done...

Friday Movie-

Friday Night


Click here to see all the images.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Forgive Me, Father, for I MUST Buy Your Calendar

This is wrong.


Should hot priests be part of a calendar-even one for charity?
Isn't that some sort of conflict of interests?

Total flash back to being in confession and told to read the Catechism regarding 'self gratification'.

"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum."


I see through their ploy-they just need to get the attendence at confession back up, and the lurid tales to be more interesting.

Hot men of the cloth Bastards!

"Just Because You're Allowed To Use Magic Now, You Don't Have To Whip Your Wand Out For Every Tiny Little Thing!"

Costumes are done!
Virtual puppy is afraid of the tunnels and won't do the agility runs.

The Onion shares this today:

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

"Whoever said you can't buy happiness forgot little puppies."

Nintendogs Update-

I BROUGHT the game with me to work today.
I'm so sad.

But how can I not bring it to work?
If I neglect little Fly (that's her name) she'll run away :(
Fly is a Shetland Sheepdog, and I am sure must be the most adorable virtual puppy ever.
She's a toothache she's so sweet :)

1st mistake-name a dog on a game that you talk to via a game system something similar to your real dogs name.

The Flurry was quite spastic after me calling Fly about 20 times to teach the puppy her new name.

2nd mistake-teaching a dog on a game that you talk to via a game system a trick your real dog already knows.

While teaching Fly the "sit" command, poor Flurry was sitting and standing so often that she finally came over to the sofa where I was, barked at me, and tried to knock the game out of my hands.

Flurry, who is something of a talker as far as dogs go, is jealous and confused.
And that's only after one night of playing with this new addiction.

Fly, on the other hand, is quite happy :)
She knows her name, knows 'sit', 'jump', 'down', and 'get it' (the command I use to make her chase her tail).

3rd mistake-'Get It' is the release command that we taught Flurry that she can go spastic and either attack one of her toys, or tear up the closest dog treat.

Only 1 real bit of guilt so far-I walked Fly this morning when I got to the office.
Flurry did not get taken for a walk, or given a treat, and I did not even pet her this morning :(

No wonder she's jealous.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

" I did it because I loved the game. "

2 Days till Goblet of Fire hits the screen.
Still need to make my quidditch robe for Friday nights fun, and still need to add the top section of the dress to my Beauxbaton dress for Saturday.
Otherwise, everything is done!

Have written NOTHING else towards my 50,000 words since the last update.
If I'm a very good girl, I may be able to do some writing tonight.

A co-worker stopped by today and started playing with my Potions Class lego set and very casually said, "that Harry Potter boy is too hot to be 16".
I had to agree, and so I thought I'd share this blog entry someone just shared with the Potter Ubers-

Husband #1 just told me he bought a present while at lunch today!

No wonder I'm not doing any writing-
Nevermind that I'm debating if I want to go out and buy this.
And there is still my recent evolution into Sims 2 that somehow steals hours of my night like a dryer after your sock drawer.

...and I'm not even a gamer!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

"The cure for writer's cramp is writer's block. "

Thankfully, it's a slow day at the office.
My plan, is to get some writing done in between the boring day-to-day stuff.

4,569 / 50,000

Here's to hoping I'll have some updated counts to post later today-

In the lull, check out the following-

Wonderful Electric recomends this screenwriters blog.

and Stannum shared some cute iAds.

There is even a Dr. Who one for Wonderful Electric there.

Dallas in now in second place behind The Kings.
This always makes for fun hockey time for me :)


The pix from Halloweekend are up here.

and I'm starting work on the last minute Beauxbaton's uniform tonight.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

"If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster."

It's that time again...

I'm a bit behind schedule already-

Wordcount is at 2673.

Not a bad start, but to already be 3 days behind the start date is testament to my normal 'write in spurts and then run dry' writing style.

I'm distracted by my paper on Beckett and it's extended deadline-

And I've just seen Capote, and I'm reeling.

Nevermind that my Potter illness is about to go into overdrive with the movie coming out in 14 days.

Someone light a candle to the proper muse for me, and another to whomever controls the weekends and their tendancy to run away with my time.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

"I had rather be a dog and bay the moon Than such a Roman."

I love to tease Colin for reading The Sun-
it's a trash mag of the highest standards.


He sent me an article that I found quite amusing.

The HBO series Rome premered there tonight, and along with a write up on the new show, The Sun included the following...

"For TV viewers keen to slaver over the sex in new BBC series Rome as well as keeping up with Champions League football tonight, the Sun has provided a useful guide to the dirty bits. At 9.09pm, for instance, "be sure not to miss Rome's first sex scene featuring Julius Caesar's manipulative niece Atia naked and straddling a soldier." Other pivotal dramatic moments at 9.12, 9.29, 9.36, 9.45 and 9.49."

Now I'm wondering if there will be a c*sucker timetable for DeadWood next season.